


In the Eyes of a Boy

by Stonyinspirationwriter



Series: In the Eyes of a Boy [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Consensual Sex, Consenting Adults, Godfather Stever Rogers, Godson Tony Stark, Guilty Steve, Implied Anal Sex, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inappropriate Thoughts About A Minor, Injury from sex, M/M, Morning After, Naked Tony, Non-Explicit Sex, Non-aging Steve Rogers, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Promiscious Steve, Pseudo-Incest, Rough Sex, Steve Rogers Feels, Stony - Freeform, Superhusbands (Marvel), conflicted steve, eighty-one year old Steve, no actual incest, stony au, twenty-nine year old Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 22:42:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7456669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stonyinspirationwriter/pseuds/Stonyinspirationwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt where Steve Rogers never crashed the plane, nor was he  ever frozen., but a major side of effect of the Super Soldier serum proves to be the inability to age. After suffering a personal loss, the birth of Steve Roger's Godson, Anthony Edward Stark, turns out to double as his own rebirth. What begun as a father-son type relationship turns into an attraction once Tony becomes an adult. Steve is now forced to deal with his crippling guilt from last night's actions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Eyes of a Boy

**Author's Note:**

> The present takes place in the year 1999.

Steve had found salvation in the large brown eyes of a boy, and his own personal hell in the large brown eyes of a man.

 

Steve is standing on the balcony, clutching the railing as he breathes in the ocean air. The California sun has risen but is reluctant to fully present itself from behind the clouded curtain.

 

Despite being in nothing but jeans, Steve isn’t bothered by the early morning chill—too consumed by guilt to even care. The night had ended, taking with it the ecstasy and euphoric haze, leaving the light of day to expose and scrutinize his previous actions.

 

Steve Rogers had officially lost all control. For so long now he has been a car spinning on an icy track, always just barely managing to maneuver his way around the obstacles in his path; he had crashed many times before but somehow he had always managed to pull through and continue on with his obscure but consistent path. This time he’d not only crashed, but had burst into flames. Worst of all, he had perverted his relationship with the most important person in his life: his Godson, his boy, his Tony.

 

Anthony Edward Stark’s birth had doubled as Steve Rogers’ rebirth. This rebirth was completely different from “project Rebirth” because his body had solely been altered while his mind still belonged to that skinny kid from Brooklyn. This time the major change Steve had undergone was purely mental and spiritual; it had revitalized a dead man.

 

His soul—the man he was– had died along with his precious Peggy and their long awaited unborn son a decade before. Steve had become an empty man wandering aimlessly through consecutive life sentences; a Super Soldier that would never physically age past thirty, the perfect image of human vitality and destined for a long, desolate existence until death decided to grant him mercy.

 

The future he and Peggy had envisioned together abruptly snatched away. Steve had failed them; just like he had failed Bucky during the war. The omnipotent guilt and crippling sorrow of failing the people he had loved most, had paved the way for hatred fueled, irrepressible rage that had nearly given him insane. If it were not for Howard Stark and Edward Jarvis talking sense into him he would have freely given himself over to the darkest recesses of his mind.

 

Although far from okay, Steve had managed to achieve some semblance of functional. He set up a daily routine, dedicated himself to ensuring that the intelligence agency Peggy and Howard had given birth to was well maintained by taking over her position as a SHIELD agent. Steve had found a way to contrive a mask of life even though he felt empty inside. He had tried just about everything to fill that emptiness—things he wasn’t proud of—but nothing sufficed until Tony graced his world.

 

Tony was everything and more. Tony had replenished his world with the most vibrant of colors and restored Steve’s sense of purpose. Tony was the son that he and Peggy would have had, and Steve took on the role of the boy’s protector.  As the boy’s appointed Godfather, Steve had made a personal vow before God to dedicate his very existence to making sure that Tony grew up safe and loved, or he’d die trying.

 

Waves crashing, the squawking of hungry seagulls, the motor of a speed boat –all apart of today’s cacophony of endless noise that his hyper-sensitive ears have no choice but to detect. Steve shuts his eyes and concentrates on quieting the noises by redirecting his focus. He isolates all other sounds and picks up on the sleeping young man’s steady breathing. Steve opens his eyes and follows the sound from the balcony back into the bedroom.

 

The young man has shifted from his previous position and is now lying on his stomach. His head is turned to the side, his cheek pressed against the pillow with both hands tucked underneath. The blanket teasingly dips below his waist, exposing the fresh bruises Steve had unintentionally created on his hips from gripping too tightly in the heat passion.  Steve swallows, torn between feeling remorseful for his actions and the desire to repeat them

 

Steve sits on the edge of the bed, his blue eyes roaming over the young man’s back before stopping on his face.

 

Same long and dark eyelashes, same golden brown eyes behind closed lids, same dark head of hair—he can’t help but remember the small child that use to sleep soundly in his protective arms.  As a child he’d crawl into Steve’s bed whenever Steve had stayed in the guest room during one of his visits and fall asleep on his broad chest. Steve remembers consoling him after a nightmare, running his fingers through the boy’s hair and whispering promises that continued into the night long after the boy had fallen asleep.

 

**_“I’m here, Tony. I won’t let anything hurt you—I’ll kill anyone that tries. I’ll keep you safe.”_ **

 

Tony

 

Oh God.

 

Steve’s stomach churns at the connection.

 

Tony isn’t a child anymore, he reminds himself. Tony is a consensual adult in his early thirties, and there was nothing perverse or incestual about last night…right? He had nothing to compare this situation to. In the entire history of mankind, no one had experienced this, making them the first, and very likely the only ones, to ever experience this; as non-replicable as the Super Soldier serum that flowed through Steve’s veins.

 

Steve Rogers had come to realize that being an anomaly meant to perpetually be lonely.

 

All too far complex for the human mind to comprehend. Steve had tried but all it did was prompt a splitting headache and leave the taste of bile in his mouth.

 

What troubled him the most was the why.

 

Out of everyone in the entire world why did it have to be his Tony?

 

It was an attraction Steve had sworn he’d never give into.

 

The low rustling sound of sheets and the slight dip of the mattress forces Steve from his thoughts. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he had been staring at nothing in particular for the last few minutes. He turns around and Tony is lying on his back, wincing in pain, but in a split second it’s gone, and two sleep-dazed, chestnut brown eyes meet his.

 

"Morning", Tony says cheerfully. There’s a smug little smile on his face that Steve briefly considers wiping off his face. This was a personal victory for Tony. It was what he had wanted since that night after his parent’s funeral eight years ago.

 

Tony had been drunk and on God knows what when he had practically jumped Steve. He had been so outraged at Steve’s refusal to “fuck him” that he had retaliated with hateful accusations and the most venomous of words before throwing some pitiful punches. Steve had hugged his boy until he had cried himself to exhaustion. Steve had spent the night in Tony’s bed, fully clothed and on top of the comforter simply to watch over him.

 

“Morning,” Steve mechanically replies, listlessly tracing his finger over the red satin sheets.

 

“Steve.” Tony insists, forcing Steve to look at him with dimly shining eyes.

 

“You’re not still playing the part of Captain Righteous. ” He dryly asks, scrutinizing Steve’s face. Steve takes note of the hickey he had possessively marked on Tony’s neck.

 

“It shouldn’t have happened,” Steve laments.

 

Tony snorts.

 

“A little late for homophobia, don’t you think?”

 

Steve scoffs.

 

“Left my sexual denial back in the 60’s.”

 

Steve had had more than his fair share of sexual experimentation throughout the decades. The years had jaded his old-fashioned views on love and relationships, and the whole finding the right partner schtick. He had found and lost his Peggy, and he was lucky to even have had that brief time with her. Not everyone found theirs, and the odds of finding another person like that—another person that could make you feel alive in the way they had—were very….

 

Steve thought back to last night. The way Tony had felt. The sounds they evoked from each other. The taste of his skin. The feeling of the dips and planes of his body…It hadn’t felt like that with any of the sexual partners—woman or man– that had stepped through the revolving doors of his monotonous life. He hadn’t been detached in any way, not his mind from his body, or himself from his partner.

 

 _You old, sick bastard_ , he told himself. _You fucked your Godson!_

 

“Then what’s your problem? ” Tony asks.

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve murmurs, his expression somber. And the words lodge in his throat, building up into a pile of regrets too knotted to speak through.

 

 _“I’m sorry for betraying your trust_ ,“he wants to say. _I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry I put my needs before years. I’m sorry for those years I put Shield ahead of you. I’m sorry for letting you down. I’m sorry for making you feel alone. I’m sorry I didn’t keep my promise._

 

“Seriously, Steve, I’m fine.” Tony chides, a soft lilt of exasperation in his tone.

 

“No, it’s not fine.” Steve insists. “ I hurt you.”

 

“No you didn’t.”

 

Tony reaches out his arm and grabs Steve’s bicep.

 

 "Lie down with me. Come on, Steve.”

 

His eyes are pleading, just like they had been last night, and even though Steve could easily shake him off he is once again rendered powerless by those eyes. Steve obliges, lying beside him. Steve leaves a small gap between them so their bodies don’t actually touch despite the close proximity. Steve is thankful that Tony doesn’t move closer. Steve cannot trust himself to remain rational if Tony’s naked body is pressed against him.

 

“Why are you wearing pants?”

 

Tony has automatically lowered his voice due to the intimacy of such a close proximity; he’s so close that Steve can feel his breath. That rich note of lascivious intent should be against the law. A federal crime.

 

Steve gives him a slight smile that quickly fades. He could also say the same thing about Tony’s ass. About Tony’s entire body.

 

He is torn between attraction and revulsion, something heated and something cold and sickly curling in the pit of his stomach.

 

“This was a mistake,”Steve insists. Running hands nervously through his already mussed hair. Yet the memory of the night lingers strong, snaking tendrils of phantom touches through his body.

 

But there is defiance in Tony’s eyes, swirling bright and challenging. Tony lurches forward, catches Steve’s lips. He lingers for but a moment, catching the bottom lip in his teeth, before pulling away somewhat mollified.

 

“What was a mistake? Putting pants on?” Tony jokes, eyes shifting warily despite his sudden daring. Steve knows that Tony understands. He also knows that this is how Tony has learned to cope with emotion.

 

“Last night, “Steve clarifies. “We shouldn’t have.”

 

“You certainly had no qualms about fucking me into the mattress last night.“Tony says, his tone matter of fact. Steve cringes at his bluntness.

 

“I took advantage. That was wrong of me.”

 

“You what!?”

 

Tony abruptly sits up and Steve follows.

 

“Are you seriously that dense? Do you think I slipped into your bed, completely nude, because I wanted a bedtime story? “ He hurls out, anger tinging every syllable of the accusations.

 

But Steve is much too entrenched in his train of thought, continuing on in the same rut he’d been in.

 

“No, but I shouldn’t have.”

 

“Are you seriously pulling out that self-righteous Captain America bullshit?”Tony snaps. “Im so sick of your hypocrisy.

 

“Tony—”

 

“Did I—is it because of…me?”

 

The words come out small….tiny even.

 

Steve can see the fear behind that question, and despite the strength of his frame, the suppleness of every tendon and muscle, Tony seems so fragile. It reminds Steve of that insecure boy that was starved for attention.

 

 _Yes, it’s because you’re amazing_ , Steve thinks. How could Tony possibly think that Steve saw him as any less?  Yes, it was because of him. It was because of the little boy that he used to be.

 

Probably sensing weakness, Tony swallows back his emotion and retreats behind his “Tony Stark” mask of bravado and charm.

 

“Because I know it wasn’t the sex,” Tony continues with a smirk.

 

“It’s because you’re you,” Steve admits. He immediately realizes the error of his choice of words.” I don’t mean you–”

 

“Hey, Cap, it’s fine.” Tony gives a nonchalant wave of his hand. He’s hiding behind that phony public Tony Stark smile. “Not everyone could handle the full Stark package. Don’t worry, better men have tried. “

 

He winks.

 

“I didn’t—”

 

“Well that was fun.” Tony declares. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed with his back facing Steve. “We should definitely do it again sometime. “

 

He rises to his feet, still completely nude. The sheets slip off his frame, and Steve can’t help but wish he was in their position, leaving lingering touches on the man he’d rejected.

 

“Tony, please don’t go.” Steve pleads, trying to catch his eye. It’s his turn to beg however, desperation lacing his words so that he could make him see. Make him understand that all this is wrong for reasons more intimately strange than he could fathom.

 

“I’m gonna shower.” Tony states as he pads out of the room. The announcement lashes out, insultingly casual and blase.

 

“Fuck,” Steve says under breath before bolting from the bed. He’s instantly at Tony’s heels.

 

“Listen,” Steve says, his voice startling Tony.

 

Tony turns to him, on the balls of his feet, every tendon poised and strained to attack.

 

“Stop doing that!” Tony barks, immediately turning away.

 

“Would you just stop!” Steve says irritably.

 

“I said it’s fine,” Tony repeats, the muscles in his back taut. “Stop making everything a damn crisis.”

 

Steve grabs Tony’s arm and shoves him against the wall.

 

“Shut the fuck up for one goddamn minute!” Steve shouts, lightly pushing him against the wall, pinning him there by holding his arms down.

 

Tony glares at him with eyes full of fury, his lips tightly pressed into a sneer.

 

“Yes! It’s you!” Steve says quietly. He takes a breath.

 

“I held you in my arms when you were a baby. I wiped your tears when you were a little boy. You were the son I had wanted, and I promised I’d protect you. You were mine.”

 

Tony’s brow is creased, his lips tight, his eyes large and questioning as they remain fixated on Steve’s.

 

Steve’s throat is tightening, and he could feel his eyes watering. He swallows down his bubbling emotions before continuing.

 

“You were everything to me, Tony, and you still are. But somewhere along the way you…you grew up. On your eighteenth birthday you kissed me. I yelled at you, but I was disgusted with myself for not pushing you away fast enough. For liking it.”  

 

“It was my birthday wish,” Tony adds quietly.

 

**_“What did you wish for?" Steve had asked him that night._ **

 

**_He had spent the day with Tony, knowing very well that after he left Tony was going to throw his own crazy party with his friends. It was a simple day, but they had been enjoying themselves, and Tony was giddy. They had just finished dinner, which included a tiny cake with a single candle, and Steve was walking Tony back to his off campus apartment._ **

 

**_“I never believed in wishes”, Tony responded. “I’m too proactive for that. I make it happen.”_ **

 

**_Once they had gotten to his place, and Steve was saying his goodbye’s when Tony kissed him. Everything changed after that._ **

 

Steve nods. “And then your parent’s funeral.”                                        

 

“I was drunk,”, Tony admits. “But I knew what I wanted. I had been wanting that already for a long time. And I wanted it last night, and so did you.”

 

Tony licks his bottom lip, and whether it was intentional or unintentional didn’t matter because Steve’s body would have produced the same result. He suddenly became hyperaware of the fact that Tony was still nude, but then Steve remembers himself.

 

“Tony”, Steve’s large hands on either side of Tony’s head, his thumbs caressing his cheeks while his fingers tangle in his hair.

 

“I’m eighty-one years old. The serum keeps me young while everyone else I knew is either dead or dying. If the world was the way it should be I’d be in an old folk’s home and you’d have spent the night with someone that’s actually your own age. Someone you could have a future with.”

 

“But it’s not,” Tony insists. “I’m not that kid anymore; I’m a consenting adult that is a year shy of thirty. Get it through your head.”

 

Steve nods.

 

“ I know that.”

 

“Good. “

 

Tony catches his lips, kisses him slowly, coercing his tongue into Steve’s mouth until allowed access, until all he can taste is his heat and the bitter-sweetness that lingers like memories. Tony begins to pull away, but Steve pulls him in, kissing him with a savage ferocity that is equivalent to that of a drowning man starved for air. Tony presses his naked body against him. They’re chest to chest, and Tony rubs himself against the crotch of Steve’s jeans, eliciting a sound at the back of Steve’s throat as he gently cards his fingers through Tony’s brown hair. When they finally part they are both breathing heavily.

 

“It’s cold in here,” Tony breathes, “and I’m still naked.”

 

Steve chuckles.

 

“Shower?” He offers, half a truce in the word and the other half in his smile.

 

“If you’ll join me.” Tony grins.

            

* * *

 

 

“You know, I’m not expecting anything more than this.”

 

They’re on the terrace, seated together on the circular couch that surrounds the fire pit. Tony’s head rests on Steve’s shoulder as he watches the fire dance, flaring red echoes in the warm depths of his brown eyes.

 

Steve raises an eyebrow.

 

“More than what?” He asks suspiciously.

 

“You know,” Tony says, lifting his head from Steve’s shoulder. “It’s not like I need your varsity jacket or anything like that. If you prefer, we can continue this without making it a thing—I mean if you prefer. “

 

He rubs the nape of his neck.

 

“No strings attached.”

 

Steve’s brilliant blue eyes are unreadable,  flinty and as clear as Tony’s eyes are deep in the light of the fire. Tony fidgets under his gaze.

 

 _No strings attached_ was practically Tony Stark’s motto. The thought of commitment, of being tied to someone, repelled him. Any personal relationship he had, be it romantic or platonic, were contrived. There was a very small, exclusive group of people that he actually trusted; they weren’t phased by the glamour and they saw through the bullshit. When it came to these people Tony was completely loyal. And even though Tony knew he could be an asshole, he cared deeply and would do anything for his friends.

 

Steve was different. Other than the now deceased Edward Jarvis, Steve Rogers has been a consistent figure in his life since birth. Tony has spent his life wanting Steve in every way possible, but as their relationship transitioned through the years, so did Tony’s wants. As a small child he wanted Steve as a strong and protective male figure with gentle hands; as a pre-pubescent teen he wanted Steve as a confidant and as an encouraging mentor; as horny pubescent teen he wanted Steve sexually. Now at this moment in his adulthood, he wanted every part of Steve—his mind, his body, his soul, his flaws, and his love. Most of all Tony wanted to be completely his; _strings and all_. Although he’d settle for anything that Steve offered.

 

“Is that what you want?” Steve’s face is inscrutable and that frustrates Tony.

 

How is it that Steve could always read him like an open book while Steve kept surprising him? He’s gotta work harder on decoding the Super Soldier. What did Steve want him to say? If he said yes then Steve could possibly see him as clingy and completely cut off all contact. If he said no, then Steve could possibly see him as an incurable whore that couldn’t take a relationship seriously. Tony takes option three: deflection.

 

“If that’s what you want.”

 

“I’m not gonna be your fuck buddy, Tony.”

 

Tony’s face remains neutral, but inside Tony was a roiling devastation of fears and anxieties. It’s what he is in his entirety and he wouldn’t blame Steve for not wanting to tie himself to a knot of tangled pain. Still, the thoughts flutter like panicked birds, knocking into the sides of his head until he couldn’t think.

 

Steve didn’t want him at all! His genius mind went haywire:

Stevedoesntwantanythingtodowithhim.WhatdidIdowrong? Imsuchafuckup!Maybenotme?Hehadputhisreservationsaside.MaybefuckingwithoutreservationswasallStevewanted.Impartofcabucketlist?FuckedTonycrossofflist!Nomoresex!NomoreSteve! AM I IN LOVE WITH HIM!!!??

 

The last resounding mess of a thought is swiftly pushed down into the depths of “Never in a million years.”

 

Tony shrugs. “Well that’s a shame because that was the best–”

 

“That’s not all I want to be.” Steve’s face turns a dark shade of pink. “ I mean, if you wanna….W-We could take it slow. Go somewhere. I mean, if you want to!”

Tony erupts into laughter.

 

“Ha Ha” Steve says dryly. “Make fun of the old man. Yeah, I get it.  But if you haven’t noticed our circumstances are complicated.”

 

He sullenly waits for Tony to stop laughing.

 

Tony shakes his head, trying to speak through the laughter.

 

“No!” Tony laughs. “It’s not that!”

 

He takes a moment for his laughter to subside. He wipes the tears from his eyes. “I thought you didn’t want to see me again, but you want to date me! “

 

“So, is that a yes, or…?”

 

“Yes, you idiot! “

 

Steve exhales in relief. He pulls Tony close and gives him a quick kiss on the lips.

 

“I have no idea how this will go,” Steve admits, “but I’m glad we’re doing it.”

 

Tony laughs with full hearted joy, his eyes shining freely with mirth and his body soft and he relaxes against Steve. He belongs here with Steve…every inch of him snugly pressed against every firm edge of Steve’s body. His pulse threading quickly, roughly racing to match Steve’s steadying heartbeat.

 

Tony can’t help but grin.

 

“Me too, old man. Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to explore this relationship further. Maybe dive more into past interactions. What do you think? If you liked this story then please comment <3


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